Tuesday, April 01, 2003

Dear Henry:

Now that I am working and getting home late, my big thing is to read "Goodnight Moon" to Joe on my lap. When we're done, I give him a kiss and put him in his crib to fall asleep. Tonight I tried to read "Curious George and the Bunny" before reading "Goodnight Moon" and Joe basically said, "No way, Dad." He kept trying to shut the Curious George book until I got the message and picked up "Goodnight Moon" and started reading. He's a man who knows what he wants. I thought it was sweet.

Last night I was reading Jack a last book and I had to stop a few pages into it and ask if I could finish it another time. The book was about whales. I ran into a problem when I reached a page that talked about how whales hold their breath for up to two hours. The book said the whales' lungs aren't all that special, they just know how to use them really well. I started thinking about the PFT tests you took in Minnesota. Do you remember how you sat in the space ship thingy and blew into the hose.

Remember how we held on to the nose clip and brought it back to the hotel with us. We used it as protection against stinky feet and all other bad smells. We couldn't wait to show Jack when he got there.

You did such a great job blowing and not freaking out inside the chamber. Your lung capacity wasn't exactly right, but I don't think anyone was too worried. I wish they had been. Your lungs had the infection that made you die. I used to think you got the infection when we went to go get Mom that present at Ampersand. You weren't supposed to be around construction sites and they were definitely working on that building. Thinking about all of this last night made me sad. Isn't that crazy; whales make me sad about you. Mom was out with Jen Klein, Pamela, Samantha Knapp's mom, Jeannie and Val, so I just went to sleep when Jack went to bed. I have a lot to do at night, but can't seem to get anything done. I gotta work on that.

This morning I was listening to the radio again in the car. A man who is the poet for the United States (how cool is that job) was talking about how April is poetry month. Did you know that; I didn't. You used to write poems in school. I need to find some and put them on here for us to read together. The man said that someone once said, he didn't say who, that poetry is the clear expression of mixed feelings. Mixed feeling is what I'm all about -- I am glad you're not suffering but I am so sad that you aren't here with me. I wish I could write some poetry to talk about the mixed feelings I have. I don't think you had mixed feelings when you wrote your poetry. Basically it was how much you loved Mom or Bella. You were very certain of those feelings. What do you want to get Mom for her birthday. I guess I'm not supposed to get her anything from you. That is probably not right. Yikes, I'm not so sure what to do. It is gonna be hard to write a card just from Joe and Jack.

Speaking of poetry, your buddy Jeffrey is over where the war is taking place. He is writing stories about the war and I read one today. In the middle of all the bad fighting Jeffrey found a guy who is kinda like the poet of that country, or will be when they get rid of the bad president. Jeffrey wrote some stuff about the poetman. Do you think Jeffrey knew April is poetry month. Probably, he is a smarty farty. I hope Jeffrey comes home soon. Remember when you watched TV in Jeffrey and Pamela's basement. He was very sweet with you. That was nice. It doesn't seem so long ago.

Oh my god, I almost forgot. Do you know what today is? April Fools Day. I told Jack when I woke him up that there was 3 feet of snow on the ground and school was cancelled. When he rolled over to go back to sleep, I told him, "April Fools!" Then Jack started playing April Fools jokes all morning. He was really funny. We are such kings of bad jokes. You know what the worst joke is, and it better be a joke, the cable went out. We can't watch Spongebob, Jimmy Neutron or The Wiggles. We'll give it some time to start working again.

I wanted to tell you a little about my job, but I'll do it tomorrow. I will tell you that I wear this necklace thing that has a photo of me on it attached to a cord that pulls in and out like a tape measure, or a dog leash. You were a huge tape measure fan. Remember the one Grandma gave you. You loved playing with that thing. You would have loved playing with my ID, and I would have loved for you to play with it.

I love you, man.


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